


Woven Through Time

by karasgotagun (jazzmckay)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canonical Character Death, M/M, More Than One Soulmate in a Lifetime, Platonic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 01:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzmckay/pseuds/karasgotagun
Summary: Hank and Jeffrey have known each other for many years. According to whatever cosmic force dictates such things, they aren't soulmates, but the red string of fate ties them together, anyway.written forrarepair weekday 4: red string of fate.





	Woven Through Time

**Author's Note:**

> the line "Then: it all falls apart." is a subtle reference to [GoldenDaydreams'](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams) fic, [When It All Falls Apart (It Really Falls Apart)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606024), which is a fic about hank and gavin being found family before cole dies.
> 
> officer rachael person's unicorn figurine collection is a headcanon of [Veiler's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veilder/pseuds/Veilder), as referenced in her fic [The Nearness of You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18666718/chapters/44268436), which is a fic about connor being gavin's secret admirer.
> 
> check 'em both out! :D
> 
> if you'd like to chat with other dbh fans and share fic/art, join the new era discord server: <https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm>

He meets her at a bookshop, in the science-fiction section. When she finds the book she's looking for, a huge smile spreads across her face. From what Hank can see of the shelf, it's the latest installment of a series.

"Been looking forward to that one, huh?" he comments.

She looks up at him, still smiling, and her eyes are different – not dark or medium grey like everyone else's. "Absolutely. It's been worth the wait."

She's wearing a necklace with a flower pendant on it, and from its centre, the light grey morphs into something else. Hank can identify the former shade as yellow.

"Oh," she breathes, and Hank knows she's starting to see what he's seeing.

Hank is 42 years old, and he has only known a world of grey until this moment. He knows what it means; people are always talking about the magnificence of the colour a soulmate brings with them, he was taught how to translate shades into colours in school, he has been told that it's never too late, that his time will come.

And here she is. He's not sure what to say. He settles on, "I'm Hank."

"Isabel."

Hank glances down at the book in her hands, curious to know what she likes to read. "Been looking for a new series to get into. Why don't you tell me about it?"

Without hesitation, Isabel turns back to the shelf and plucks another book out of the row. "You're in for quite the journey, Hank," she says as she offers it to him.

If the universe has seen fit to bring them together, Hank doesn't doubt that she's right.

He takes the book.

They finish their shopping together, discussing favourite authors and making recommendations to each other all the while, and when they part ways in the parking lot, Hank goes home with far more than he’d expected to when he first walked into the store. Two extra books, another contact in his phone, and a date.  
  
  


A year later, they're married. A year after that, their son is born.

Cole has Isabel's dark brown hair and Hank's blue eyes. He has both their love for reading. As a family, they have all the love and happiness that is always promised to fated pairs and their children, and Hank feels like he has found his happily ever after.

Then: the ice.

Then: the crash.

Then: it all falls apart.

Only six years, and their son is gone. Another five months, and their love is gone, too.

Every day, the world grows duller. It becomes muted, washed out. Hank's eclectic wardrobe loses its vibrancy, the sky always looks like it's about to rain, their wedding and family photos are drained of their energy and only serve to make Hank feel like he's crumbling under the weight of his loss.

"It isn't the same," Isabel says one evening while they're laying in bed together.

They're both on their backs, a foot apart, not touching. They haven't found comfort in each other these past five months, both of them too shattered and sharp and volatile to give or receive softness.

Hank doesn't doubt that she's right. She's so often right. "I know."

Jeffrey makes him see Central's grief and trauma counselor and she tells him that this happens all the time, that he's not alone. Threads can hold strong, but they can also be cut, and new ones can be woven. Hank doesn't appreciate the philosophical optimism. He's not interested in talking about it, so he doesn't, and remains silent through his mandatory sessions until he's done the bare minimum to get back to his job and go through the motions of his old routine.

His captain looks at him with thinned lips and a creased brow, but Hank doesn't care.

He doesn't care about anything, anymore.  
  


Jeffrey cares about him, Hank is aware of this. Jeffrey is a good man and just wants to see Hank back on his feet.

It should bolster Hank, should make him feel supported, but it only makes the dark pit in his chest feel darker.

They've known each other for years. There was a brief time, all the way back in high school, when Hank was a freshman and Jeffrey was a senior, and they played on the basketball team together. It hadn't given them much time to get acquainted, but it was enough that they recognised each other a few years later when they ended up at the academy together.

Even when they were young and inexperienced, Jeffrey was a good man. A man with a lot of gumption and little care for what others thought of him. Meeting Jeffrey in earnest hadn't painted Hank's world in colour, but, privately, he'd yearned for something that the universe claimed wasn't his lot. He might've made a move anyway, damn the powers that be, if Jeffrey hadn't joined the Air Force not long after. 

In his absence, Hank moved on. Met Isabel, had Cole.

And the universe still didn't get it right. Or maybe Hank is just a lost cause.

  
  


The last thing Jeffrey expects to find in the military is a soulmate.

It doesn't happen at first; he doesn't meet her until he's been through enough training that he's cleared for active flight. He goes to see his assigned jet, to get familiar with it, and there's an engineer underneath it's belly. The arms of her jump suit are tied around her waist, leaving her in a grease-stained tank-top. There's a metallic click as something locks in place, and then she ducks out from beneath the jet.

"Hey," she greets at the sight of him. "Airman Fowler, right?"

"That's right."

"Officer Vargas, but you can just call me Danica." She wipes her hand on her thigh to rid it of engine grease and then offers him a handshake. "I'll be making sure this bird keeps singing for you while you're in the air."

Her grip is strong, her palm warm and calloused. Jeffrey is normally cool under pressure, but he finds that his throat has gone dry.

"Jeffrey," he manages in response.

Danica grins as they let go of each other's hand and then turns for the cockpit.

That's when Jeffrey sees it. The jet is pointing toward the open hanger doors, and beyond is the early morning sun, still close to the horizon and colouring the sky yellow and orange. The light halos Danica's head as she walks along the line of the plane, like a golden and luminescent crown upon her head.

Danica stops, tilts her head just slightly, and then glances over her shoulder at him. Jeffrey desperately wants to know what she's seeing, and she doesn't make him wait long. "Well how about that," she says, and her grin widens.  
  
  


Just as she said she would, Danica keeps Jeffrey's jet in perfect condition. When Jeffrey's in the air, he can focus wholly on training exercises and operations, because he knows Danica is good at what she does and she's got his back. Nothing ever malfunctions or works at less than optimal levels.

He could make a life out of this. Out of strict routines and combat preparations and training new recruits and travelling from base to base with Danica at his side, always in close quarters. They're a pair in more ways than one, and he can scarcely imagine his military service without her.

Still, he feels called back to his home city. Called to the job he went to the police academy for. He thinks of having his feet on the ground and growing roots and reconnecting with old friends.

They talk about it, and they both want to settle down and have kids, so they see their current tour to its completion and then fly home to Detroit.

Jeffrey gets into law enforcement, Danica keeps doing vehicle maintenance. They have two beautiful children, and they're happy.

Then: Danica meets the love of her life.

It isn't Jeffrey. Turns out it was never Jeffrey.

Jocelyn teaches high school math to their kids, and it only takes a couple of parent-teacher nights and an outing to the school play for both Danica and Jeffrey to realise they misinterpreted a few things about themselves and each other, along the way.

"I still love you," Danica says, when they talk it all out. "I still see you the way I always have. You’re my best friend."

She still looks beautiful against a yellow and orange sunrise. "I know. I still love you, too."

Platonically, as it turns out.

As it turns out, they're still a pair. They're still co-parents. They're still meant to have their lives entwined.

Things are different, and it isn’t an easy transition, at first, but their bond doesn’t break. A couple years later, Jeffrey is Danica's best man at her and Jocelyn's wedding, and their love for each other brings tears to his eyes. They're happy and he's happy for them. As it turns out, he hasn’t lost anything, his world has only been reshaped.  
  
  


Hank has lost everything – his whole world – and Jeffrey feels for him.

They've known each other for years. When Jeffrey and Danica first returned to Detroit and Jeffrey ended up at Central, Jeffrey had been eager to work alongside the man who left an impression on him as early as their academy days. They advanced in rank together and Jeffrey saw how Hank dedicated himself to the job, saw him as a force to be reckoned with. Hank is headstrong, he's determined, he's got a good head on his shoulders. When Jeffrey becomes Central's captain, he knows he can rely on Hank to help him oversee the precinct.

Hank doesn't deserve the dark turn his life takes. Seeing him so drained of life and colour pains Jeffrey in an acute way, makes him want to comfort, to grant Hank some kind of peace. Makes him examine old feelings that he'd put to rest years ago when they hadn't been accompanied by red, and yellow, and blue.

But the timing is all wrong, and these aren't wounds that can be wished away with a kiss, so Jeffrey keeps a respectful distance. He gives Hank mandatory counselling sessions, he extends an offer to talk, and he hopes it'll be enough.

Patience and an open door is all he can give Hank.

After three years, even that doesn't seem to be enough.

Then: deviancy.

Then: Connor.

Then: it all falls into place.  
  
  


In the warehouse level of CyberLife Tower, Hank sees something he previously thought was lost to him forever.

Connor's uniform is a lot of grey, but it's also blue. Bright, glowing blue. He recounts the tragedy of Cole's death with deviant emotion and Hank knows that this is Connor, his Connor, who is so new to life and still managed to show Hank that there's good left in the world. That he might still have a chance at family.

The imposter tries to regain control of the situation, but Hank barely hears him, only fires his gun once and then turns back to Connor.

Shoulders sagging in relief and LED flickering from yellow to blue, Connor smiles at him.

Hank smiles back and nods at the rows of dormant AP700 androids. "Go on, son, do your thing."  
  
  


Central station's end of the year holiday party of 2038 is a memorable one. There are androids in their midst, ones with the rights of personhood, ones who are their colleagues. Connor has made fast friends with a lot of the force, and is even making slow progress with Gavin. It isn't just Hank's life that he's impacted.

Hank leaves the briefing room, where the conference table is covered in potluck offerings of food and drink, and makes his way back into the bullpen. Chris and Connor are deep in conversation, Connor gesticulating as he talks and Chris looking enrapt. Tina and Gavin have their heads together, voices low and smirks on their faces. From the way Tina makes a subtle gesture at the unicorn figurines on Person's desk, they're planning a prank. Jeffrey, Ben, and Violet – one of their PM700s who is an officer in her own right, now – are at Ben's desk. Chris' button-up is sunshine yellow. One of Person's unicorns is pale pink. Ben's festive sweater is blue and green.

As if sensing Hank's eyes on them, Jeffrey looks up, finding Hank across the room. He lifts himself from his seat on the corner of Ben's desk, gives Violet a companionable pat on the shoulder, and then steps away from them.

Hank meets him half-way and they coincide in the middle of the bullpen. He catches the motion of Jeffrey assessing the drink he has in his hands.

"Coke," Hank says, lifting the cup.

Jeffrey nods. "Figured as much."

It has been three weeks and five days since Hank last drank alcohol. Sometimes he finds himself in front of a particular cupboard in his kitchen, out of unconscious habit more than anything, before he remembers that Connor came over one evening and helped him dump the cupboard's contents down the sink. The instances are becoming less frequent.

"Have any plans for your off days?" Jeffrey asks.

"Connor's interested in giving Christmas a go, but he'll be at Jericho for New Years, so I'm on my own for that one," Hank says, giving a shrug.

Spending one holiday alone is still a vast improvement on the past three years. He hasn't had reason to make any plans, hasn't had anyone to make plans with.

It still makes Jeffrey frown at him. "You don't have to be."

Hank snorts, and tries to lighten the mood. "You better not suggest I give up my vacation days to ring in the new year by responding to noise complaints and drunk and disorderlies. Not what I'd call an upgrade, Jeffrey."

"You know that's not what I meant," Jeffrey says, cutting through Hank's bullshit. He scans the crowded bullpen – lingering on Tina distracting Person while Gavin creeps by her desk – and then tilts his head towards the foyer. "Why don't we get some fresh air. And plausible deniability for when Rachael threatens Gavin and Tina with violence."

"That's smart, but it's fucking freezing out there."

"Think of it as refreshing. Clears the mind."

Hank grumbles under his breath but turns to his desk where his coat is laying over the back of his chair. He waits there for Jeffrey to join him with his own coat, and then they leave the station together.

Gentle snow is falling from the evening sky, highlighted by the street lamps. Hank exhales a breath, causing a stream of fog to swirl in the crisp air.

"So, what's this about, huh? I can tell you have more to say."

"Of course, you can," Jeffrey says, sounding amused. "You're my oldest friend, you know that?"

It's far from a surprise. Jeffrey is Hank's oldest friend, too. He's one of the only friends Hank has left from before Cole died, the only one who didn't crack under Hank's grief-driven vitriol. After Cole and Isabel, he’d tried to burn every other bridge he had left. All or nothing. Salted earth. "Lucky you," he jokes, just barely managing to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

Jeffrey hums in response, like a gentle agreement with the words at face value instead of the underlying meaning Hank put into them. The sincerity sends Hank a little off-kilter, but it also warms him. For all his deflections, it’s good to touch base with Jeffrey like this. It’s been awhile since they could just enjoy each other’s company without the shadow of grief looming over them.

“I do have more to say,” Jeffrey starts. “You look good, Hank. Really good. I’m happy to see you doing better.”

Hank casts a cursory glance sideways, examining him. Between being brought out to the privacy of the quiet night and the intimate lilt of Jeffrey’s voice, he feels like there's something more going on, something that threatens to reignite the embers of an old torch Hank carried in their youth. Hank hasn't thought about Jeffrey that way in awhile, but with the tide of his life turning for the better, he's capable of thinking about such things as companionship, and desire, and the future. Hope and caution battle it out inside of him. "Yeah, I am doing a lot better. I appreciate that you never cut me loose."

"I couldn't have given up like that." Jeffrey turns to face Hank and reaches out to grasp his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Look, about New Years. Danica and Jocelyn are hosting a party this year. I could use a plus one."

Hope wins, and Hank throws caution to the wind. He grins.

"Is that so? Sounds like a good time, I'm in."

Jeffrey smiles back, his face brightening. With the stressful and time-consuming job they have, it's rare to see the lines of Jeffrey's face creased for reasons other than aggrievement or exhaustion. It's like seeing a private side of him, like seeing him anew.

"Best news I've heard in awhile," Jeffrey says.

"No need to butter me up, I already said 'yes'."

Jeffrey chuckles. "Maybe I'm already building rapport for the next time."

If there’s going to be a next time, if Jeffrey is looking to make this a permanent thing, Hank doesn't intend to turn him down. "No need," he repeats.

Giving into the impulse, he takes a hold of Jeffrey's lapel and reels him in. Jeffrey places his free hand on Hank's hip, following his lead.

As light snow falls around them, Hank shows Jeffrey – without words, or fated sight, or anything other than touch – exactly how he feels.

  
  


They don't take it slow. They've been apart for long enough.

In a month and a half, they make a downpayment on a new home. In four months, they go ring shopping. At six months, it’s as if they’ve been living this way for years.

On a hot, summer weekend, they spend a few hours in the backyard, tending to the yard and playing fetch with Sumo until they take a break and drink iced tea on the patio. They keep the back door open, with the record player in the living room spinning Billie Holiday.

Even if he couldn’t see the yellow dandelions sprouting up in their green grass, or the crystal blue sky, or Jeffrey’s warm brown eyes, Hank would call this moment perfect. He had happiness, love, and family once before, and he has it again now, as vibrant as it ever was.

The string that ties them together is one of their own making – threaded over many years and too strong to unravel – woven by more than just fate.


End file.
